Street life in S.F: Punch me in the face, he shouts

Ah, a typical Friday in downtown San Francisco. The drought kept the skies balmy to the point of short sleeves today. So instead of rain, we got a cascade of characters. As usual.

A parade of them staked out the Market Street sidewalk along Nordstrom and Walgreens all afternoon. Upstairs, as smartly dressed patrons browsed the likes of $450 trousers, those on the concrete causeway below were treated to a magic show by a guy munching on a newspaper with a beaker at his feet filled with milky looking liquid. “Yeah, you can say I’m eating up The Chronicle!” he called out with a giant grin.

Brian, street character, as he exhorts people to punch him in the face / Chronicle Photo by Kevin Fagan

A few feet away, a homeless man leaned against the wall with his shopping cart heaped with blankets, clothes and appliances. He was layered from the top of his head to his ankles with several heavy pants and coats, and his sweating face peeked out from under a thick hood. He constantly stared ahead through the stream of tourists and workers going by, saying nothing and apparently seeing nothing including the fellow selling bracelets 8 feet in front of him who waved at him now and then and smiled at the lack of response.

Above the low din of chatter and cars and buses lumbering by came occasional shouts from a young man who said his name was Brian. He stood near the corner of Fifth and Market streets wearing a padded green mask, and a few baseball caps hats in his right hand.

“Five bucks a hat!” he called out. “Or for a buck I’ll let you punch me in the face! Go ahead! Only one buck!”

It was as if he were shouting to the sky for the all the reaction he got. Over the space of about 10 minutes, nobody stopped to talk to Brian, nobody bought his hats, nobody even really looked at him beyond a furtive glance of two. And nobody hit him. He kept shouting.